A Russian shopping list needs improvisation

Press, 10 January 1987, Page 18

A Russian shopping list needs improvisation

Winter evokes the best Russian talent for improvisation and finding goods that have "fallen off the back of lorries.” The approaching New Year holiday is no exception, writes ANDREW WILSON from Moscow. When it was reported last month that aeroplanes landing at Kursk Airport were “brushing the tops of the trees with their landing gear,” “Izvestia” sent a reporter to investigate. He found that local disco fans had stolen the red filters covering the approach lights, causing pilots to mistake the naked white lamps for the start of the runway.

Recently, there was much congratulation about an increase in the supply of spare parts for cars. Later it was found that the source of this bounty was the number of Volgas and Ladas arriving by train with virtually no engine beneath their bonnets. Then there was the boost in home computer ownership made possible, it turned out, by the number of components, and indeed to whole sets disappearing from factories and institutes.

“On the one hand these thieves are very anti-social,” says the newspaper, “Moskovskii Komsomolyets,” reporting the loss of seven of the 16 Japanese computers. “On the other, their intentions to spearhead the advance into modern technology are noble.” All these items — filter glasses, motor spares, computers — are “deficit goods” for which even State enterprises must stand for months in line. A “deficit good” of quite a different kind is alcohol.

Though the rules have been eased, and wine shops may now open for an hour longer each day, demand continues to outstrip supply — not only of the hard stuff, but also of its substitutes. Hence, there is a present shortage of eau-de-cologne, cockroach poison, aromatic anti-perspirants, and anti-dan-druff preparations. Reporting on the shortage of eau-de-cologne, “Literaturnaya Gazeta” says: “Specialists say addicts not only drink these

toiletries but eat thenj — some sorts of toothpaste apparently lead to oblivion.” The cheapest kinds of eau-de-cologne, now in very short supply, are called “drinking cologne” by the sales assistants. So robust men standing in queues for them are limited, like everyone else, to two small bottles. But this has not prevented angry scenes in which women have called for their ejection by the militia (police) who patrol every large shop

The militia are in a difficult position. As the magazine puts it, they “know better than anyone that eau-de-cologne is often used internally rather than externally, but there is nothing they can do. “They cannot go up to a person who is pouring eau-de-cologne down his throat and detain him. While it is forbidden to drink alcoholic beverages in public places, how can one forbid the use of perfume?” When the perfume factory, Navaya dutifully halved

output of its M kopek ($2.50) Troinoi eau-de-cologne and tripled production of its 12 rouble ($35) Charlie, it was accused of taking advantage of the situation to fulfil its “money plan” more quickly. The cosmetic queue was much in evidence when I joined customers in search of New Year presents at a store called Yagran — said to be popular in South Moscow. When described, Yagran had sounded like a little boutique round the corner; but 152 Pro-

fesoyuznaya Street turned out to involve an eight-mile drive Though tucked behind a larger building, it was instantly recognisable by the long queue waiting outside to buy purchases off customers as they left. Inside, each shopper was being allowed two purchases of each item — cosmetic, crockery, embroidered slippers, woollen dressing gowns, and skeins of imported knitting wool. Anyone lucky enough to attract the sales girl's attention, took whatever came, regardless of pattern or colour, since it could all be sold or swapped outside. Copyright — London Observer Service.